Diaries of A Swan
by thenerdyfangirl
Summary: Mary-Margaret wants Emma to loosen up a bit. How about a diary? Let's see what Emma thinks about that. Mentions of SwanQueen and other pairings, but mainly Emma-centered.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: In case you're going to be confused, this story is formatted as a diary, so all the entries and dates are what you would find in a regular journal. FF doesn't let me use actual lines, so that was frustrating. If there's a date with a few periods below it, that means she didn't write anything that day. I didn't underline her actual entries, since that just looked awkward. And this chapter's pretty short, but they'll get longer if you think I should keep going.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Monday, August 1**

Ugh. What do I even write? What the hell is this even for?!

 **Tuesday, August 2**

Yes, Mary-Margaret, I realize that yesterday's entry was not "acceptable". Whatever. It's your fault for making me do this. If you force me, you're going to get crap results! You're going to have to tell me what to write here! I've never even _owned_ a diary, much less _used_ one!

 **Wednesday, August 3**

I hate this.

 **Thursday, August 4**

 **...**

 **Friday, August 5**

 **...**

 **Saturday, August 6**

 _Fine!_ I'll write the freaking diary entry! Anything to get you to stop bugging me! You've been pestering me for a _week_ about this! Jesus Christ, mom! Alright.

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _Today sucked because my mother made me write this entry. I'm in my twenties, by the way. My **twenties**. Writing in a **diary**. A diary where you're supposed to share your deepest thoughts and feelings and whatever. It's supposed to be **secret** , too. (I'm talking to **you** , mom.) I don't even know what to write about. My love interests? My first period? Yes, diary, red stuff came out of my vagina for the first time ten years ago. Fantastic. Now I have to worry about bleeding all over chairs and my pants for one week out of the month. Sometimes **two** weeks, if God decides to punish me for eating extra donuts in the morning before work._

 _There you go, Mary-Margaret, a nice paragraph for you to re-read and try to interpret some hidden meaning. There isn't one, by the way, in case you're actually wanting my opinion. I have no problems besides my life._

 _Sarcastically yours, Emma Swan_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, here's the second chapter! If you guys have any suggestions for future entries, I'll be happy to hear them!**

* * *

 **Monday, August 8**

Did you like that last entry, Mary-Margaret? Of course you didn't, because it was honest. I'll write another one for you, because I'm at work with a stack of undone paperwork on my desk, and I don't want to do it.

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _Here we are again. What do you want to hear about today? About my job? My boss? My constant battle between fitness and food? I can't stand this either way, so pick one, diary. Did I hear you say "job"? Alright then, I'll tell you about my pathetic excuse of a job._

 _One fine day, Emma Swan, a beautiful blonde woman in a bad-ass red leather jacket, was walking around town, minding her own business. Suddenly, Regina Mills, the Mayor of Storybrooke, comes up to her and says, "Hey, you useless piece of shit, you need a job because I want to destroy you in ways that won't get me arrested." in that professional, sexy voice she has. And Emma Swan couldn't refuse, because she was an idiot. So Emma found herself behind a desk, with a badge on her chest and a gun on her hip, and a helluva lot of paperwork in front of her. And Regina said, "You don't get to do anything except sign things, do math, and maybe chase a drunken Leroy once in a while. Enjoy yourself, Miss Swan." And the mayor left, and Emma was left to sulk and spin around in her chair for eternity. Now Emma gets to write in diary. Level up!_

You know I love you, mom. Right?

 _Sarcastically yours, Emma Swan_

 **Tuesday, August 9**

I think I've already gotten bored with this idea, mom. I'd rather do my _paperwork_! You've destroyed me!

 **Wednesday, August 10**

What to write about? What to write about? What to write about? Ooh! I know! I'll write a song for you, Mary-Margaret! How about that? I think you'll enjoy this! (No, not really, in case you got excited.)

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _I'm going to write my mother a song. What should it be to the tune of? Mary Had A Little Lamb? Oh, that'll be perfect! It even has her name in it! Well, here goes nothing:_

 _Mary had a little girl, little girl, little girl,_

 _Mary had a little girl, and she was **twenty-two**._

 _She made her keep a diary, diary, diary,_

 _she made her keep a diary, just like she was two._

 _But Emma didn't like that book, like that book, like that book,_

 _Emma didn't like that book, and threw it in a fire._

 _The fire burned the whole damn town, whole damn town, whole damn town,_

 _the fire burned the whole damn town, and it was Mary's fault._

I like that song. I really do.

 _Sarcastically yours, Emma Swan_

 **Thursday, August 11**

Yeah, that was kind of mean. I'm sorry, mom. So I'll write some lies for you in this entry, just to make you happy. Okay? Does that sound good?

 _Dear Darling Diary,_

 _I'm just so confused about life, diary. I mean, am I pretty enough? Does everyone like me? Do I have enough Facebook friends? Maybe if I go shopping and get some new clothes, then that guy at the grocery store will like me back... It's just so stressful! He looks at me like he might be interested, but I just can't tell! Is he just being friendly, or flirty? What about the guy at the auto shop? His hair is so perfect! How does he do that? How does Ruby manage to dye her hair that precisely? Can I do that? I don't think my mom will let me. She won't let me do anything! I wanted some new shoes at the mall, and she said no! I mean, how could she? All the decisions, too. Do I wear the brown leather jacket, or the red? Or the tank top? Do I smell good? I just want to cry all the time, and nobody seems to understand me! Today, I ate my lunch like a pig! Did anyone see? That was sooo embarrassing, I just have to die!_

Okay, I'm _done._

I'm literally barfing, mom. My mind is rebelling. I must have some cocoa and a good scream.

 _Painfully yours, Emma Swan_

 **Friday, August 12**

Can I take a break today, Mary-Margaret? I'm still recovering from yesterday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday, August 10**

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _So something insanely exciting happened today! I lost exactly_ _ **.34**_ _of a pound!_

 _Ugh._

 _That's pretty much it. Unless you want to hear about locking up Granny for keeping an unregistered crossbow behind the counter in her diner. She'll be in there for a couple days, then I'll let her go because nobody really cares, and there's extra papers that have to be filled out if she's kept longer than that. Besides, it makes me feel better being in the diner knowing that she has a crossbow if Regina decides to go all Evil Queen on us again. Yes, I know, arrows do nothing to a woman with awesome magic powers, but I feel better nonetheless._

 _Oh, and I visited the lovely Sheriff's restroom twice today. Do you want to know what I did in there? Of course not. Although, the janitor (who got stuck with_ _ **that**_ _crappy job when the curse was cast?) must have skipped over the bathroom entirely, because Pongo's pee was still on the stall from yesterday. Pee is sticky. So are my boots._

 _Can I blow up the Sheriff's station without getting arrested? Of course, I_ _ **am**_ _the Sheriff..._

 _*Evil laugh*_

 _(I must get some pointers on evil laughing from Regina, because what I just did was a mix between a constipated lamb and a fat baby burping.)_

 _Sarcastically yours, Emma Swan_

 **Sunday, August 11**

Mary-Margaret, is it sad that I might have actually enjoyed writing that last entry? I write in a _diary_! Jesus Christ, where has this world gone to?

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _Today is Sunday, so I'm not technically working, but of course, Regina the Almighty Mayor of the Universe called me and asked me to arrest Sidney. Again. You may ask, why this time? And I answer, because he was "...unnecessarily loitering among flowers in the park..."._

 _Regina's words exactly._

 _She really does_ _ **not**_ _like that guy. Maybe she prejudices against black people. I don't know. All I know is that she's tried to get him arrested... let me see... at least twenty times in the last two months. And maybe part of it is that she likes to invite me over to her mansion, try and get me drunk on delicious apple cider, and play Evil Queen and the Savior. If you know what I mean._

 **Mom**! Disregard that last paragraph! Oh shit, I can't believe I wrote that!

 _Frightfully yours, Emma Swan_

 **Monday, August 12**

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _I am not gay! I am_ _ **not**_ _gay! Oh dear God, believe me. Notice how I said "tried" in that last entry? It never actually happened! Trust me! Regina Mills is hot as hell, but I don't think I could ever do that. No, wait, Regina is_ _ **not**_ _hot as hell! She's... as cold as... my freezer! As cold and unsexy as a block of ice! There is_ _ **no**_ _role-playing,_ _ **no**_ _lusting, and_ _ **no**_ _apple cider shots!_

 _Lord please help me, Emma Swan_

Seriously, mom. NO happenings are happening. I swear on Henry's reasoning skills.

 **Tuesday, August 13**

Thanks for pointing out that Henry has no reasoning skills, Mary-Margaret. Thanks a lot.

 _Dear Damn Diary,_

 _I have nothing to say to you._

 _Thank goodness, Emma Swan_


End file.
